


Eyes On Fire

by malixa



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Firefighters, Firefighter AU, Firefigther!Ian, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-08
Updated: 2014-09-08
Packaged: 2018-02-16 15:34:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2275125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/malixa/pseuds/malixa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Firefighter AU</p><p>Mickey looked up to a pair of piercing green eyes and for a second thought he had reached heaven, which was slightly ironic because he was in a burning hell.The lack of oxygen must really messing with his mind, or maybe not because those eyes were really, really something.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eyes On Fire

**Author's Note:**

> It’s very far fetch, I know. But it’s just something I’ve twiddled whenever I've had time because I’m stuck on ‘On your wrist’. Yeah. It’s also kind of light compared to the circumstances. 
> 
> I did some research for this fic but holy hell it’s hard finding out shit about firefighters. Most of this should be correct though, feel free to call me out on mistakes. I failed International English last year so let me know if there's any grammatical errors.

Saying that Mickey had found himself in a few shitty situations in the course of his twenty-four-year-old life would have been a massive understatement. Between constantly getting in fights with his brothers and landing himself repeatedly into trouble with the law; he had developed quite a talent for weaseling himself out of troubles. Those situations were usually the consequences of something he had brought down on himself though and in many ways he deserved the ramification that followed.

The situation he currently found himself in was definitely not deserved and neither did he think that any amount of weaseling-effort on his behalf would be able to get him out of this one.

His apartment was one fire. With him and Mandy _in it_.

Yeah, he had been able to deduce such from the heavy smoke and ash clouding the air. As if the air wasn’t already blazingly thick enough he could see from his position on the floor - that the kitchenette and the whole hallway was on fire. Even if he had been able to get out beneath the giant thing that was bracketed over his chest, he would still be five floors up from the ground and unable to get anywhere. He had woken up from a nap on the couch when the smell of smoke filled the living room. His instincts had kicked in and he’d jumped to the floor, bewildered and really fucking confused. He would have liked to have said that he acted right away, that he ran into Mandy’s room to wake her up at once but the flames had taken him completely of guard – reasonably so - and he was completely frozen in place.

Further so, when _something_ heavy as fuck collapsed onto him and cemented him to the floor.

Now there was a gaping hole where the ceiling of the living room used to be and he was directly beneath it, trying his best to get out beneath the heavy thing on top of him, which he by now had figured out was a part of a rafter.

Mandy was still in her room and Mickey was caught between tearing his already burning lungs out and trying to tear himself out beneath the rafter on top of him. Both his attempts futile, his chest was heaving painfully beneath the rafter, lungs burning with the efforts of screaming for Mandy and trying to push away the weight off his chest. If he had been listening for it he would have been able to hear sirens blaring from the streets down below. Mickey wasn’t though and the hope that he would survive the blazing hot fire had started to slip as his mind as he fell closer to unconsciousness.

Maybe it was the lack of oxygen from the pressure of the rafter or maybe it was the smoke coiling in his lungs but he really just felt like giving in. Breathing in the smoke that surrounded him and letting it cloud his senses. It was tempting but he was a stubborn little fuck and refused his body from giving in, his hands were restricted in the situation but he gave a few last ineffective shoves to the rafter before laying back.

As he laid there stretched out on the floor he really couldn’t do anything but to hope that someone would come rescue Mandy, her room was located further away from the flames so there might be a slight chance that she would make it out alive. He hoped so, Mandy had suffered through a hell of a year and she really deserved to get it out of here, if anybody in this godforsaken place did it would be her.

There was heavy pounding coming from somewhere, footsteps and screams sounded from what Mickey figured was the floor below his. He felt like he was boiling up, the mixed feel of smoke in his lungs and blood in his mouth made him want to turn over and vomit.

Just as he actually thought he would, the door slammed open. A single firefighter had kicked the door open and if Mickey had been lucid at the moment he probably would have laughed, cause people say it doesn’t look like it does in the movies but it totally does. The firefighter seemed to act on instincts the minute he spotted Mickey on the floor. He did something weird to the door that held it open before talking loudly something into a handheld radio.Mickey was barely able to catch a few words over the loud crackling noises of the flames.

The firefighter advanced and crouched right next to Mickey, fingers fumbling over his neck to check the rate of his pulse. Mickey looked up to a pair of piercing green eyes and for a second thought he had reached heaven, which was slightly ironic because he was in a burning hell. The lack of oxygen must really messing with his mind, or maybe not because those eyes were really, _really_ something.

The firefighter’s lips were moving and Mickey only then got that the firefighter was repeatedly asking him something. Mickey forced himself to listen.

"Can you tell me your name?” The firefighter asked again, pulling off his helmet.

His hair was fiery fucking red, well wasn’t that fucking ironic.

A flashlight swept across Mickey’s eyes.

“Can you tell me your name?” the firefighter repeated.

“Mickey,” he coughed out in response, voice choke-y and hoarse. 

“Mickey? Good, okay. I’ll be checking over you for external injuries and I want you to stay very still is that okay?” The firefighter asked as he opened up a bag next to Mickey’s side. “Mickey, I need an answer,”

“Yes,”

“Can you breathe Mickey?”

“Barely,” Mickey rasped out. “My sister, she’s-"

“We’re working on it. Just hold on,” The firefighter said but it didn’t really relieve Mickey’s worry. The firefighter cast a quick look over his shoulder to look around the apartment until his eyes latched on to Mandy's bedroom door, axed open. 

“There’s someone in there with her right now, she’ll make it out of here,” He said as his hands worked over Mickey.

Mickey might have been suffering from lack of oxygen but he didn’t miss the way the guy refrained from saying with the word alive.

“Can you feel your legs?”

“Uh-huh,” Next came a ripping sound that Mickey realized was his jeans being cut open.

“There’s a piece of metal in your leg and I’m …- _relax,_ ” the firefighter said quickly. “I’m not going to remove it but I will cover it up and it’ll hurt. I’ll work quick as I can but I need you to perfectly still, okay?”

Mickey made an affirmative noise and braced himself as he felt fingers prodding the skin right above his knee. Pain shot through his leg as something tightened around his leg and for a second he was really grateful for passing out, that was until the firefighter slapped his neck to pull him back to consciousness.

“Hey, stay with me, don't close your eyes,” The firefighter ordered and went back to working on his leg. Mickey found it hard to keep his eyes open, he was so damn tired. Hands fumbled at his jaw, tilting it until he met eyes with the firefighter. “Stay with me, just listen to my voice and stay awake, okay?” The firefighter asked in a stern voice, making sure Mickey nodded and understood the message. The firefighter’s jaw was set hard and - in a place where everything else was caving - Mickey found his determination reassuring.

“My sister-”

“She’s already out, I don’t know anything else than that but she looked in tact, she was awake, that's a good sign.” The firefighter answered, looking Mickey straight into his eyes to make sure the message got through.

The firefighter pulled his gloves back on as someone shouted. “Gallagher!”

“In here, Martinez!” 

A woman entered through the burning hole in the wall and took in the situation before her. The rafter on top of Mickey seemed to be her main cause of concern as she circled him on the floor, eyes skirting around the rest of the apartment, probably for something to alleviate said main concern.

The first firefighter’s fingers tightened on the rafter. “I won’t be able to hold it for long so I’ll need you to shove as hard as you can when I say go,”

She looked at Gallagher like he was crazy. “I don’t think-" Martinez said but he cut her off.

Mickey would have thought that Gallagher would have given up by now but he hadn’t, that hell bent look still in his eyes was still there.

“The ceiling is going to cave any minute we need to do this now before it’s too late,” Martinez nodded and stepped over Mickey to brace her hands on the rafter.

In some unspoken agreement they moved at the same time, Gallagher lifting and Martinez shoving up and away with all she had. The rafter fell a few inches north of Mickey’s head and to the floor with a loud bang. A twinge of relief washed over Mickey, he was finally able to get air into his lungs, though the air was tainted with smoke and ash it was a whole lot better than slowly suffocating.

“You can handle this? There’s still two rooms in need of evacuation,” Martinez asked, panting a little.

Gallagher gave a sharp nod and Martinez disappeared through the gaping hole where the hallway door used to be. The firefighter hooked an arm beneath Mickey’s shoulder.

“I’m going to help you up and out of here in: one, two-” On three, just what Gallagher had predicted would happen; the rest of the ceiling caved. A screeching sound ripped through the air before rumbling remains of the ceiling crumbled over them. A few seconds went by before Mickey came to, the air was heavy with dust and ash and he realized with panic that he couldn’t move again. Heavy mass of rafter and drywall pinned him to the floor; crippling his attempts to drag himself out beneath the mass. The firefighter, Gallagher, was almost completely covered in rubble and remains, his head and upper left side was the only parts of him that Mickey could see clearly. He was unconscious; face already blood streaked and and dirty.

Mickey was hanging on to his last hope, pleading that it wouldn’t fade as he looked around for something grounded, anything that was strong enough to hold on to and pull himself out. But there was nothing in sight, with the last of lingering might he could gather he managed to drag himself a few inches closer to Gallagher. The sirens and noises of the burning building were loud but Mickey hoped his hoarse words could still be heard over the commotion.

“Hey! Wake up,” Mickey reached his hand as far as he could and managed to get a hold of the firefighter’s wrist through the rubble. He gave one short desperate tug; there must be a God because with a loud, pained cough the firefighter stirred awake. The smoke was dizzying and Mickey struggled to stay awake.

“Don’t you follow your own orders Gallagher?...Stay with me.”

Gallagher coughed; wheezing out short exhales and longer inhales until he was able to steady his breathing. He looked around with as much effort he could in a weak attempt to figure a way out of there, in the end he pulled the same conclusion as Mickey had. There was no way. Except for the crackling of the fire and the building falling apart there was nothing, not a single sound but the loud aching sound of the building falling apart.

Gallagher’s hand fumbled a little before he gripped on to Mickey’s fingers through the rubble. The hold on Mickey's fingers was too harsh but it dimmed in comparison to what the rest of his body felt. 

Gallagher looked terrified. He must be around Mickey’s age but he looked younger like this, with his brows furrowed in a blurred expression of pain and fright. He steeled himself, pulling big drags of air into his lungs. There was still some stubbornness in his eyes and Mickey wouldn’t have believed it if he hadn’t seen it himself - Gallagher dragged himself out of the rubble. Through the ash, debris and chaos around them he rose from the ground, grabbing ahold of Mickey’s and pulling.

Gallagher was saying something, yelling something but Mickey couldn’t bring himself to listen. He could feel Gallagher’s hands tighten and Mickey should probably try and stay awake, but his lungs were heavy with coiling smoke and he couldn’t bring himself to do anything but let his eyes close.

 

∞

 

Mickey was vaguely aware of beeping and sirens. Other than that he could sense hands, a lot of them, poking and prodding around his body and he was also vaguely aware of being transported somewhere. Not that he had a clue where to though, but he let himself be lifted, let the hands do what they wanted. Mickey was tired, the pain had drifted away from his body a few minutes ago and he was nearing the feeling of bliss and wasn't about to question it.

 

∞

 

When he woke up there was a hand covering his, a hand he immediately recognized despite the rare gesture it was. _Mandy’s_. Jesus fucking Christ, even before opening his eyes or moving he could tell he was sore all over. With a little bitter determination he pulled himself fully into consciousness and opened his eyes. His hand was broken, he hadn't even noticed it happening but there was a cast on his hand so that much was obvious. His arms were littered in small cuts, nothing substantial and only a couple were stitched. There was also the familiar twinge of broken ribs, he'd broken enough to recognize the feeling.

At least there was good drugs.Mandy was sleeping with her body half way out of the hospital chair and halfway bent in an awkward angle at Mickey’s side, drooling and snoring in a way that was definitely not cute.

“Stop snoring,” Mickey mumbled, stretching his body into a more comfortable position that caused Mandy to jolt.

“Hey, how’re you feeling?”

“Like I’ve run a motherfucking marathon”

“As if you would know how that would feel like,” Mandy said, a small smile on her face. “You look like hell,” she noted, smile fading a little.

“You’re one to talk,” Mickey cast a look to the sun streaming through the window.

“Did you sleep here?”

“Yeah, I was worried, plus, the apartment is kind of…crispy at the moment.”

“How long was I out?” Mickey asked, looking out of the window again.

Mandy checked the clock on the wall.

“Well, after the operation you slept for…sixteen hours.”

Operation?

He sat up straighter in the bed and on queue, a wave of low thrumming ache ran through his thigh. Right…the metal thing in his leg. He had blissfully forgotten about that until now.

“So how long do I have to stay?”

“At least another two nights for observation, something about your lungs and ash or smoke or something.” 

“Okay. How ‘bout you?” Mickey asked.

“What?”

“How are you feeling?” Mickey groaned out, stretching his back.

Mandy huffed out a breath. “Other than tired I feel completely fine, after I woke up they ran a few tests but I’m okay.”

“Can’t understand how you didn’t wake up through all the noise, I almost yelled the lungs out of my chest.”

“Yeah, I’m surprised you can talk at all. Apparently it’s normal, something about not waking up when breathing in smoke or something. I can’t really remember, I was kind of trying to get in here as fast as possible,” She finished, with that worried look again. Mandy patted Mickey’s hand a little awkwardly.

“Did anyone…die in the fire?”

“No. Some are critical though, so I guess it’s too soon to tell.”

Mickey nodded, feeling a little relief amongst the worry that was still lodged in his chest.

“Jared came by with some stuff earlier, clothes and I don’t know – a toothbrush and some other stuff.” Mandy said, gesturing to the weekend bag on the hospital bedside table. Mickey noticed what Mandy was wearing, recognizing the sweatpants and hoodie that said ‘Chicago Bulls’ as Jared’s. Mickey was grateful Mandy had found a good guy for once.

“Would you mind if I went over to his place to take a shower and a quick nap? on an actual bed?” Mandy asked, gathering a winter coat and a plastic bag from the floor.

“Course not, just…bring me something to eat whenever you come back.”

Mandy grinned from the doorway.“Snickers?”

“Sure, thanks.” After Mandy left Mickey slept for a few hours, he couldn’t really help it, too tired to stay awake. When he woke up from restless sleep it was seven in the evening. He looked around for a few seconds and spotted a plastic bag on the nightstand that wasn’t there earlier. It was clear that Mandy had left it, a few snickers and mixes of other junk food beneath what was definitely a home made sandwich – if the sloppily spread peanut butter was anything to go by. A nurse came by and handed him a mix of pills, he swallowed them all down and was glad when the aching pain subdued.

He ate, watching the news as he did so, shamelessly and nervously wondering about the firefighter. Unsure how to address the situation, he had chosen not to do anything about it yet, he figured he could keep himself occupied enough to procrastinate it a little longer. There were no deaths so far, in the fire that was, but seven were critical. No names were released of course and it was nerve wracking to not know. He didn’t even know why he cared; Gallagher had only been doing his job right? It hadn’t actually meant anything but Mickey was curios. So he pulled himself out of the bed, regretted it for half a minute until the pain in his leg subsided and made his way to the bathroom.

Mandy hadn’t been kidding when she said he looked like hell. It wasn’t that bad compared to previous injuries he’d suffered through as a kid but he definitely could have dealt without. His lip was split, his cheekbone and temple bruised and there were a few cuts here and there, aside from that his face was no better than usual. His ribs on the other hand ached as he stepped into the shower and they didn’t exactly get any better when he got out either.

He brushed his teeth and pulled on Jared’s too big sweatpants and another, _seriously_ another Chicago bull’s hoodie. The boots on the other hand - fit well so he made his way through the corridor, noting his room number before heading towards the reception albeit slower than a fucking turtle cause his leg was aching. 

“Gallagher?” he asked a bit doubtfully, as if he might have gotten the name wrong.

The nurse looked up at him rather unimpressed, he was clearly tired, probably working double shifts.

“From the fire?” Mickey clarified a bit tentatively, had there been any other fires?

“Right,” The nurse said as if he’d forgotten about it. “Yeah, hold on a sec,” he wrote something down on his computer. “Down to the right, room 812.”

Mickey wasn’t sure to be relieved or not. Gallagher was at the hospital but at least he wasn’t dead right? He started to slowly walk down the hallway. It was dark outside by now and Mickey wondered if he should go or not. Curiosity won over in the end, and maybe a little bit of concern too. The door to Gallagher’s room was ajar, just enough that Mickey could see from his torso and up. He was asleep, burrowed into his pillow, breathing slowly but seemingly not in a coma or half dead. There wasn't any more damage than cuts and bruises 

“Do you want to come in?” The voice scared the shit out of him. A nurse was standing next to Mickey, a tray with food in her hands.

“Uh,…no”

“Is he a friend of yours?” She asked, breezing past Mickey and into the room.

“No,”

“Acquaintance then?”

“No,”

“Do you answer everything with an ‘No’?” She asked, eyes crinkling.

"No,” Mickey dumbly responded before he’d even had the chance to think about it. Apparently he did. “Yes?”

Mickey leaned into the door frame as the nurse placed the tray on the hospital bed table. She fixed up the room a little, closed the curtains, checked Gallagher’s chart. When she was done she stood at the end of Gallagher’s bed, giving Mickey a curious look.

“Sure you don’t want to come in? I’m sure he won’t mind, he’s been out most of the day,”

“He’s okay though?”

“All things considered, yes,” She said, nodding a little. “One could argue that firefighters are guardian angels but looks like he had one too, huh?”

“I guess,” Mickey answered bleakly.

“I mean, I don’t really believe in that but it takes a shit ton of luck to make it out of a fire like that with so few injuries. He was lucky,”

Mickey didn’t answer her, just gave a short nod before she exited the room. Going against his better judgment and probably climbing a little up on the creep ladder he sat down in the chair at the end of Gallagher’s bed. He flicked through Gallagher’s chart, probably breaking one or two laws in the process. Ian was Gallagher's first name, he was twenty-three and allergic to penicillin, that was about it.

Mickey put the chart back and slumped back into the chair.

Ian’s covers only reached up to his chest and Mickey could spot several old and new scars on his skin. He had way too many scars for someone that was only twenty-three. Most of them weren’t easy to spot, his skin was pale enough for them to slide right in if Mickey didn’t pay attention. His face was nearly void of them though, a few scrapes here and there and small scar one over one of his brows but other than that he was unmarred.

Ian changed his position on the bed and he must have ended up uncomfortable if the grimace on his face was anything to go by. He stretched a little before blinking his eyes open, meeting Mickey’s head on. Once the initial look of lazy bewilderment passed, he looked confused and then curious.

“Hey,” And he said it so damn casually, as if the two of them hadn’t been in danger of loosing their lives a day ago.

“Uh. Hey. I…- I guess I wanted to say thank you, or whatever.”

Ian looked confused again; he stretched a little, looking way too dazed and intoxicated.

“Are you like, really high right now?” Mickey asked, realization dawning on him.

“Yeah,” Ian answered as his face split into a dazed grin."Turns out that healing bones hurts like a motherfucker." 

Mickey bit down a laugh and smiled instead. “Okay, I can come back later,” he offered and made a move to stand up.

“No, hey… don’t leave,” Ian mumbled. “Stay with me,” lazily stretching out a hand beneath the covers, eyes already closed

Mickey smiled at the words, Ian was probably not aware of what he was saying but Mickey grabbed his hand and stayed, rubbing circles on a thin scar on Ian’s wrist. 

 

∞

 

“You haven’t inhaled enough smoke yet?” A voice asked behind him, startling the shit of him even though he recognized who it belonged to.

“Figured I was half way there already, so why not?” Mickey said, exhaling another lungful of smoke and looking back to the view from the hospital rooftop.

“You shouldn’t though, can’t always save your ass can I?” Ian said, grinning as he stopped right next to Mickey.

“You really do have a hero complex a mile wide don’t you?”

“Kind of my job.”

“Stupid job,” Mickey deadpanned, Ian snorted but didn't argue.

Mickey tore his eyes from the view and glanced up at Ian. The bruises around his collarbone were almost fully healed, just faint marks against his skin.

“Worth it though,” Ian said after a few seconds, meeting Mickey’s eyes.

Mickey smiled back unable to resist, it felt good, _Ian_ felt good.

Mickey felt completely dazed as Ian leaned forward and kissed him. His hand travelled along Mickey’s neck, bringing him closer with his other hand on his waist. It lit a fire inside of Mickey, igniting a whole other type of flame that he was sure no one could douse out even if they tried. It was ironic that Ian of all people was he one that made him feel like this, like, Mickey felt so light he wanted to laugh for a second but instead he melted beneath Ian’s hands, kissing back with all his might.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think?


End file.
